


The Death of William T Spears

by deadlylampshades



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, It's Okay Though He Becomes a Shinigami, Shortly Afterwards he dates Grell, Suicide, Will Dies, small cameo by Lawrence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 04:58:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9803507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlylampshades/pseuds/deadlylampshades
Summary: William T Spears is finally ready to die.-How the future administrator of the Management Division of the Grim Reaper Dispatch became a shinigami.





	

William T Spears lived a good life. He was presentable, intelligent, well-mannered, rather handsome and could handle his scotch like any Englishman should. He never broke the law, never swore in front of a lady and never debauched himself in public.  

It was a crisp February day, and a light drizzle permeated his suit. He coughed, and wiped his glasses on his sleeve.

The city was undoubtedly beautiful from here. Plumes of smoke waved into the air, as if flags in the distance. The rain poured into the dark river sweeping through the city. The street was eerily quiet from this height, save for the galloping of the horses. William exhaled, savouring the brittle air.

It was a good day to die.

There was no point denying his fate anymore - he had resolved this morning to take action. Childish delusions of change had to be put to rest, and he had to accept that this was inevitable.

Of course, he had made the suitable provisions for his departure. He had left his landlord the rent for the month in a neat envelope on his bed and had another for his sister with his remaining assets – what little remained. He was neither materialistic nor popular and had little else to give.

He chose not to write a note, however. _What would he write in it?_ was his reasoning. What drove him to suicide was far too complex to be translated to ink on pages. ‘I do not think I am meant for living’ would not appear to make sense to anyone who read it – yet it was as true as the blood flowing in his veins. He could not explain it any more than he could explain why the sun rose in the morning or why the leaves fell in the autumn.

No, better just to disappear without a word. 

After nearly thirty years of this game of life, he was reasonably sure it was one he no longer wished to play. This decline was a gradual process, yet as he reflected, he couldn’t recall the last time he felt happy to be alive.  Perhaps he never felt happiness to begin with.

William rubbed his hands over his knuckles and blew warm air onto them. Cold air blew onto him. He felt a momentary pang of… sadness, was it? He wouldn’t see another snowy day, he wouldn’t see the New Year’s fireworks and he wouldn’t see the turn of the next decade. He wouldn’t see another autumn.

He wouldn’t have to see another summer however, and that proved to be a lovely thought – he did detest the summer.

He looked over the edge of the building he currently stood on, and felt horribly small as the height engulfed him. A rush of vertigo hit him, and he reflexively staggered back. His breathing faltered, and he took a moment to centre himself, and dropped to his knees, resting his head in his hands.

He thought of his chair at the Solicitor’s office that would be empty at this very moment. Most certainly, someone would enquire where he was. They’d think he must be deathly ill – William never missed a day of work.

It was still morning. If William so wished, he could walk down this building and into his office, and sit down, feigning having overslept. He would be reprimanded, of course, but he would most likely have a job at the end of the day.

What would that accomplish exactly? What then? The cycle would continue. Days fade into nights, and nights fade into days that fade into weeks, that fade into months, that fade into years, and William T Spears fades and fades and fades until he’s nothing more than the faded imprint of the man he used to be.  And _that_ idea made William sicker than the vertigo did.

The realization seemed to stiffen his resolve. He looked up, the rain ceasing for the moment. It would be dramatic, if this didn’t happen near daily with the regularity of clockwork.

William felt like laughing. There was something oddly fitting about dying on a day that was only remarkable in its ordinariness. A February day would claim a life that was just as ordinary.

William rose from the ground, shakily but with resolve. He didn’t look at the sprawling city before him this time, rather, he fixed his eyes above him. Unforgiving marble clouds stared back, and he wondered how far he would have to reach to be able to touch the skies. A part of him knew this was a childish thought, but still, he extended his arm out, just to _check_.

His perspective made it seem so close, as if an inch away, but the reality was not as fanciful. The sky was far away, and the sky was massive, and the sky was unforgiving and William was just so _small_. He dropped his hand as if he had burned it on his own foolishness.

By now he realized he was stalling. He knew what had to come, and he was fully prepared in body and mind, but the actual step forward seemed to elude him. He looked down and became vaguely aware that his crisply steamed white shirt would look rather untidy stained in his blood.

He was sentimental enough to wear his favourite tie – red. He wore it the first day of his job and that same day, he found some money he forgot about in his coat pocket. He had worn it the day of his sister’s wedding. The William of those days was far more juvenile and prone to believing in whimsical things like ‘lucky ties’, but the tie still became associated with good memories.

He walked to the edge again, his feet the sole sound on the rooftop. The thought of his sister’s wedding brought what could only be described as jealousy to William. He never experienced ‘love’, but he supposed that if by now he hadn’t, it probably wasn’t meant to happen to people like William. No point dwelling on it.

William looked back up at the clouds. If he could choose, he wouldn’t simply step off a building. He’d prefer something grander and more fanciful. If he indulged himself in fantasy, he wanted to walk off the edge of the universe and fall into the abyss – not fall into a dirty pavement.

But William could not reach the edge of the universe, and even if he could, he probably didn’t deserve it.

Raindrops fell from the sky again, and he wondered if it was tears for the imminently deceased. The rain was what he needed to awaken himself, to give him that last spark of life to prompt him to move forward.

The never-ending years will no longer trap William T Spears in an unfeeling grasp of apathy. He dies a man that’s free.

He stepped off. He didn’t look down.

-

Agony, and then-

Darkness.

It seemed like William got his wish to fall into the abyss. All he saw was darkness, and he revelled in it and then-

_Brightness._

His vision was filled with images, visions of a life, of _his_ life. He gasped, absolutely transfixed by the symphony of colours before him. _What a beautiful way to die_ , he thought.

 

-

And then, he opened his eyes.

“Welcome to the Grim Reaper Dispatch,” said the bespectacled man who was currently in front of him – he held a scythe in his left hand and his other remained outstretched. “My name is Lawrence.”

William looked down and despite everything, he had his tie, as red as the blood stained on his shirt.

When William did nothing but stare, Lawrence nodded, as if expecting that. “You’re dead. If you’re wondering.”

Still, William did nothing but stare.

“It was nice the rain stopped briefly.” Lawrence commented. “You picked a good day to die.”

“I did, didn’t I?” William T Spears replied, and those were the first words he said in his new life.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at tumblr @minhyukwithagun to cry about dream man William T Spears


End file.
